LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
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http://www.archive.org/details/poemsbyernestwarOOshur 



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E M S 



BY 



ERXEST WARBURTOX SHURTLEFF 



ff^ITH Ay IXTRODUCTIOX 



By HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH 




BOSTON 



A. Wli i.iAM- AN"D COMPANY 
^IH Comrr 33ootetcrrf 

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76 ^^^-l 

5 

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'^ ^ .«- 



Copyright^ 1882 , 
By Ernest Warburton Shurtleff, 



University Press: 
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 



TN morning* s goldeii smile there is a power 

That gives a music to the sojigstej'-'s tongue^ 
That opejis every dew-bespangled flower^ 

Where ^ like embodied joys on wiiigs of pleas7ire hting^ 
The biitterjlies, bright spirits of the glowing ho2ir^ 
Drink the sweet iiectar from the cups of Fiord's bower ^ 

And fall like drifting leaves the daisied nooks among. 
If of the early verses that have growjt 

Like wild flowers^ petaled with btit si?nple thought, 
From 07it 7ny mind, there be one that is showjt 

To bear siich form and hues as Nature'' s brush has taicght, 
If but the shadow of a butterfly be known 
Upon my page, or song of bird, are they 7Jiy own ? 

Lo ! from 7ny 77iother^s S7nile, like 77Zor7ti7ig's, they were 
caught I 




CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

ixtrodlxtiox 9 

Consolation . 15 

The R„\inbow 33 

A Dream of Children -38 



Gold and Shade 



41 



The Bright Reaper ' 43 

Song of Autumn 4- 

The Sleeping Shepherd. 4S 

Grandmother 30 

October :;2 

Morning and Evening 34 

Cupid at the Gate 37 

To A Cloud ... 61 

Little Schoolhouse in the Glade 64 

The Nightingale 63 



6 CONTENTS, 

PAGE 

Hymn of the Deep 72 

Autumn Colors 77 

Minute Songs 80 

Summer Morning 84 

A Winter Scene 86 

To THE Evening Star 89 

The Shadow-Boatman 91 

Night 96 

"Voices of the Night" 98 

Hidden Music loi 

A Vision of Music 102 

The Winter Pilgrim 108 

SONNETS. 

In the Woods 117 

My Playmate 118 

Out of the Dark 119 

The Memory of Pleasure 120 

A Portrait 121 

By the Fireside 122 

Life and Death 123 



CONTENTS. 7 

PAGE 

Alone 124 

Dreamland 125 

In Waverley 126 

My Mother's Portrait . 127 

Summer in Winter . 128 

The Snowstorm 129 

Sunset 130 

A Hope 131 

By the Sea . 132 

To A Captive Bird 133 

The Skies 134 

A Rainy Night in the City 135 

A Winter Night in New Hampshire 136 

Soul Harmony 137 

To Sleep . 138 

Sculpture 139 

Light and Shadow 140 

To Silence 141 



INTRODUCTION 




HE poems between these covers might not 
inaptly be termed a bouquet of wild flowers 
plucked by a young hand. ]\Iost of them 
have the colorings of nature, and breathe of the woods 
and fields. 

They were \mtten by a young author, bet^^;pen seven- 
teen and twenty years of age, — some of them amid the 
duties of school-Hfe in the city, but many of them in 
vacation days, among the woods and hills near the old 
Waverley Oaks in Waltham. Most of the short poems 
have appeared in periodicals. 

Their collection in permanent form has been advised 
by the editors of the publications in which they have 
appeared. So many of our poets belong to the purely 
imaginative school, that it has been pleasing to encourage 
a young artist, working on the models of the old English 
pastoral poets, and whose studio, like Bloomfield's and 
Clare's, has been among the fields, birds, and flowers. 
These poems have given pleasure to the editors who have 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

accepted them, and to those who have read them, because 
they are beheved to be true to nature, vividly to recall 
the greenery of the hills and the music of the birds and 
streams, and dehcately to interpret the voice and spiritual 
symbols of the world of beauty around us. 

The fine and subtile spirituality of thought and feehng 
that follows the study of nature is an influence that lifts 
the soul into clear views of life's possibilities and purposes. 
The lark, that rises over the woodlands to sing, poises its 
wing in an intenser light than falls upon the earth, and is 
made happy in a brighter and wider atmosphere. If a 
man would become an artist, was the teaching of Wash- 
ington AUston, let his associations be true, for Nature 
does not reveal her mysteries to a mind clouded by any 
shadow that breaks her light. The society of nature 
leads to spiritual habits of thought. In this Palace of 
Truth, in these gardens of the Celestial Temple, one is 
able to penetrate many of the mysteries of spiritual life 
and happiness. In this treasury one may find the gold of 
God. Keats not only found his soul drawn heavenward 
by such communion, but even imagined he could feel the 
daisies growing over him. And another poet, who loveth 
the woods, fields, and skies, exclaimed — 

" The stars are but the shining dust 
Of my divine abode, 
The pavements of those heavenly courts 
Where I shall dwell with God." 



INTRODUCTION, II 

The pastoral poetry of England is one of the best 
influences of literature, and much of it has been written 
by young pens. The most cordial wishes for success 
will follow the young writer whose taste leads him 
to this healthful school. '' A writer who makes this 
school of poets his model," said an editor of experience, 
'' should, if he have promise, receive the most cordial 
appreciation." 

For these reasons the friends of the young author of 
this volume have asked that these flowers of verse be 
collected, and pressed between these covers, that the 
pleasure that they have taken in them may be shared 
by others of like sentiments and tastes. 

HEZEKIAH BUTTERAYORTH. 
Boston, N(nj ember, 1882. 



^ 



POEMS 



POEMS. 



CONSOLATION. 
* A POEM OF LIFE. 

. » PROLOGUE. 

HEN through the breaking clouds the glorious 



Pwi sun 

Presages that the course of storms is done, 
And, from his clearing throne of azure bright, 
Floods ether's boundless fields with streams of hght, 
How gently steals his flush along the glade, 
How softly fleets away each dusky shade ! 
He turns his gaze on Nature's tearful face, 
And lo, her brow is bright w^th dazzling grace ! 
She throws the veil of darkness from her form, 
And Heaven smiles upon the passing storm ; 



1 6 CONSOLATION. 

While, floating on the mist of distant skies, 

Like some celestial path to Paradise, 

The arching rainbow spans the melting haze, 

And lifts on high its pure celestial rays. 

Thus Consolation, with a hallowed power. 

Dispels the storm of Life's tempestuous hour, — 

Lifts every shade of sorrow, lulls the fears. 

And smiles upon the cloud of melting tears, 

Till Hope, the rainbow, glows witli promise bright. 

And gilds the Future with a smile of light. 

PART FIRST. 



Whate'er our earthly lot, whate'er our fame. 
More days have we than happiness can claim ; 
In every life is found some lingering shade. 
On every heart some burning load is laid. 
As fades the sweetest flower for want of rain. 



CONSOLATION. 1 7 

So without sorrow lives the soul in vain. 

More cares than pearls bedeck the monarch's throne ; 

Who smiles in public, weeps when he 's alone. 

And yet a purpose glorious and wise 

In every transient joy or sorrow lies ; 

Know then that He, whose wisdom is His might, 

Has framed and planned His noblest work aright. 

SONG. 

The golden promise of the bright to-morrow 

Sleeps in the midnight skies ; 
Thus hidden in the depths of every sorrow 

An unseen gladness lies. 

Ah blind ! we see not, in the earth's dark bosom, 

The flower that shall bloom ; 
Nor heed how Nature's fairest graces blossom 

Out of the mould and gloom ; 

2 



1 8 CONSOLATION. 

Yet He who fosters earth with all her sweetness, 
Holds, with unfailing care, 
' O'er our frail lives those laws with equal meetness 
That make His flowers fair. 



II. 



Why is it that the sweetest songs we hear 
Draw from the soul the homage of a tear? 
Does Sorrow thus her burdened mind relieve, 
Through Pleasure's smiling halls her fears receive? 
Or does she paint some picture on the heart 
That bids the truant tear in secret start? 
Ah no I thus Joy finds language in her tears, 
The dearest fruit her bower of beaut v rears. 
And by this common tie, this common chain, 
Our pleasures are united to our pain. 



As Nature, from the bosom of her fields, 
The various flowers and weeds together yields^, 



CONSOLATION. 1 9 

As by the thorn the dainty daisy grows, 
And by the nettle springs the tender rose j 
So do the hopes and fears of Hfe abide, 
Like weeds and precious flowers, side by side. 
To find our pleasure we must pass the thorn, 
To pluck its sweetness, by the briar be torn. 



Life is a path that lies 't^'ixt joy and pain. 
Now bright \^ith sunny skies, now dark ^nth rain ; 
E'en in our woe we know that pleasure nears, 
E'en in our joy our eyes are filled \\dth tears. 



SOXG. 

Ix every tear that falls there is a blessing 

That gives the heart relief; 
For Sorrow thus, her own sad soul caressing, 
Restrains her grief. 



20 CONSOLA TION. 

Yet often where the step of Pleasure lingers 

The heart's warm fountain flows, 
While Memory charms her lyre with gentle fingers 
At evening's close. 

Flow on, sweet tears ! ye are the dews of gladness, 

Though ye may spring from grief; 
And even when ye wash the cheeks of sadness 
Ye give relief. 

III. 

* Alas, our changing hopes in Hfe pursue 

The object Fancy paints with brightest hue ! 
She hears the approaching footstep as it falls 
Along the unknown Future's mystic halls. 
And paints the scenes her pregnant eyes behold, 
With stripes of sombre black or streams of gold ; 
Until delusion, hke the butterfly, 
Unfolds its dazzling wings before the eye, 



COXSOLATIOX, 21 

And leads the eager heart from place to place, 
Upon its vain, unprotitable chase. 

The hope that soars upon the fairest wings 
Oft to the soul the smallest blessing brings ; 
.\nd disappointment, with its bitter pangs. 
Above the ambitious mind forever hangs. 
From sinking hopes foreboded ills arise, 
As sinking suns leave darkness on the skies. 
Ambition leads our hopes, like birds that stray, 
From manv a nest that han2:s bv home's fair wav : 
And say, when may those hopes returning come 
To build again beneath the eaves of home ? 



This constant striving after dearer things 
Prunes all affection from their listless wings, 
They wander homeless in some foreign clime, 
Like helpless motes tossed on the winds of Time ; 



22 CONSOLATION, 

The distant gales that sweep their native bough 
Find all their former nests deserted now, 
And there the rain beats, pitiless and chill, 
And there the sighing winds are never still. 
T were better that contentment warm the nest 
Where only lowly thoughts and wishes rest, 
Than, leaving, make that humble dwelling bare, 
And give to Death the sweetest pleasures there. 

Oh that some simple spirit might infest 

With sovereign sway the wants of mortal breast ! 

Oh that the restlessness of man might cease ! 

Ambition oft is enmity to peace. 

Where were the beauty in the halls of night 

Were there no lesser stars with minor light? 

Where were the beauty in Hfe's common plan 

Were there no lowly minds its ways to span? 



COXSOLA TIOA\ 23 



SONG. 

^^Fly little Hope :" I said, 

" Bring me the flower 
That in the Future grows, 

On Pleasure's bower I " 
]\Iy little Hope took wing, 
And I sat listening, 
Till he should hasten back to me once mon 
I painted in my mind 
The blossom he would find : 
I thought its bosom fair 
\ heart of gold would wear, 
With pure and snowy pollen sprinkled o'er» 
But, lo ! my Hope returned 

With grieving tears ; 
His fairy body shook 

With trembling fears ; 



24 CONS OLA TION. 

His tender hand was torn 
By sharp and cruel thorn. 
" I could not reach the pretty flower ! " he cried. 
He crept back to his nest 
Within my foolish breast, 
His troubled face in tearful shame to hide. 
And now I sigh no more for fancied flowers 
That seem to deck the Future's charming bowers, 
But with the Present I am satisfied. 

INTERLUDE. 

The lovely things of earth are kindred bound, 

And in a pure relationship are found. 

In perfect concord do they greet the soul, 

And one rich chord of beauty binds the whole. 

'T is said misfortunes come in dubious pairs. 

That each to each a dull resemblance bears. 

If this be so, 't is also sweetly true 

That thus do smiUng pleasures charm the view. 



COXSOLA TION, 2$ 

One pleasure from another ever springs, 
And in rich harmony its gladness brings. 
And all the good, the beautiful of earth, 
In concord rise, the race of one sweet birth ! 



PART SECOND. 

I. 

O YE who miss, from out the happy throng 

That till the sunny halls of home with song. 

Some gentle face, — some voice whose loving word 

Is heard no more, unless in memory stirred, — 

O faher not with bitter dread and tears ; 

Chill not with grief life's ne'er returning years ! 

Go forth and gaze upon the tender skies ; 

In Nature's smile God's consolation lies. 

They whose dear forms no more of earth are known 

Need not our tears at Heaven's eternal throne. 



26 CONSOLA TION. 



SONG. 

How often, when aweary and faint-hearted, 

A holy influence of comfort nears, 
As though the memories of the years departed 

Like guardian angels came to dry our tears. 

The old famihar faces rise before us, 

Bright with the smiles that they were wont to wear ; 
Again they lovingly seem beaming o'er us. 

As though with us the weary load to share. 

Once more we seem to hear the well-known voices, 
The prattling joy of childhood's guileless tongue, 

Whose echo soft the listening soul rejoices. 

Like some sweet chord by distant breezes rung. 



CONSOLA TION, 2/ 

Again we hear the cahxi low voice of mother, 

A holy benediction for our pain ; 
The accents of a sister, or a brother, 

All charm us with their harmony again. 

How gently, oh how gently, do they greet us, — 
The echoes of those long-departed days 1 

How often, oh how often, do they meet us, — 
Those kindly faces smiling on our ways ! 

Ah, tell me not that Heaven's shining portals 
Are distant from the paths of earthly care. 

For I believe the weary feet of mortals 
Oft stand upon the threshold unaware. 

And I believe that this which man calls dying 
Is but the opening of our blinded eyes ; 

The pluming of the spirit's wings for flying, 
The garments changed for those of Paradise. 



28 CONSOLA TION, 



II, 



As crystal lakes portray the changing skies, 
Till in their depths the scene reflected lies, — 
The dreamy cloud, the star, the shrouded night, 
The sun that sets in rosy splendor bright, — 
So does the soul, as mirrored in a glass. 
Reflect the changing scenes that o'er it pass. 

As one who, standing in some lonely wood, 

Turns from the gloom and solemn solitude 

To w^here, between the spreading boughs, the breeze 

Admits the flecking sunlight through the trees ; 

So, from his toil and trouble, man assays 

On some fair spot to fix his wandering gaze, — 

On some bright prospect, be it far or near. 

That sweet contagion may his spirit cheer. 

He toils with natural impulse for the sight 

That doth with fairest charms his steps invite. 



CONSOLA TION, 29 

Far, far from self is turned his aching heart, 
With outward things to heal the inward smart, 
Till thus, departing from his clouded way, 
He breaks from darkness to the open day. 
His spirit there unconsciously reviews 
The ways of comfort, — pauses there to muse 
Upon the sounds it hears, the sights it sees. 
Until with sympathetic thought it frees 
The bondage-troubled soul, and so regains 
The sunny path it wended e'er its pains. 
Yet man may never fold his weary hands 
And reap the comfort that his need demands. 
He may not bide in idleness, and know 
That pitying Charity will touch his woe, 
And from his idle mourning and his grief 
His sluggish spirit grant its longed relief. 
No ! Justice holds a fairer rule than this : 
Who would be happy must deser\'e his bliss. 
True comfort is of toil and labor born ; 
Seek then for consolation, ve who mourn ! 



30 CONSOLATION, 



. SONG. 



The Past is fleeting Pleasure's quiet grave, 

Where memories bright like streams of sunlight linger ; 
Where sleep the good and fair, the true and brave, 

Where fond Affection points with trembling finger. 

'T is there the Spirit of departed years 

Sings like some distant bird at close of even ; 

'T is there dear eyes smile farewells through their tears, 
As quiet stars shine through the mist of heaven. 

Oh, shall we then review the Past with sighs, 

And mourn our loved and lost with pain and weeping ? 

No, for from out its shadow they shall rise 

Like joyous beings, waking from their sleeping. 

III. 

Hast thou e'er cHmbed the rugged mountains hoar 
When dreary clouds spread stormy heaven o'er? 



COXSOLATIOX. 31 

Hast thou e'er climbed the rough and stony way 
To find above the clouds the smile of day ? 
So journeyed I. The path was steep to ti'ead, 
And bhnding mists about were thickly spread. 
Oft was the road nigh buried from the view ; 
But Hope my faltering steps led safely through. 
The cheerless clouds were passed. O glorious sight ! 
Those clear and boundless skies were blue and bright. 
The sun outpoured his soft celestial rays ; 
And as I looked below, my raptured gaze 
Was dazzled with his pure, reflected charms. 
My soul was hushed, for Beauty's presence calms. 

The lofty peaks, with features stem and cold. 
Along their ridges wore a line of gold ; 
And, where the melting shadows hung below, 
The clouds were drifted white as sparkling snow. 
From east to west those depths of floating mist 
Lav calm as seas 'neath skies of amethvst. 



32 CONSOLATION. 

'T is even thus that mortal's rugged path 
Above the clouds a scene Elysian hath, 
To which his cares and pains but pave the way, 
And lead his footsteps to All-glorious Day. 

SONG. 

I FOUND a plant in the chilly night ; 

It pierced me with its thorn. 
I cried, '^ It is a worthless weed ! " 

But lo ! when broke the morn, 
I found it bore a blossom sweet, 

That opened with the day ; 
Then was I glad that in the gloom 

I cast it not away. 
Ah ! even in these lives of ours, 

The plant that bears the thorn. 
And wounds us in the night, will bloom 

With gladness in the morn ! 



CONSOLATION. 33 



CONCLUSION. 



When quiet Eve, through day's departing light, 
Seeks on the hills her sister-virgin, Night, 
Her dewy mantle drops its coohng shower 
Upon the thirsty plain and drooping flower ; 
Her gentle whisper lulls to sweet repose 
The weary birdling in the forest-close ; 
Her drowsy breezes stir the placid lake, 
Whose heated waters from their calm awake, — 
A moment smile, and then, in slumbers deep, 
Reflect the Heavens in untroubled sleep. 
Along their borders, pictured sweetly fair. 
The graceful trees their images compare. 
Eve calms the troubled heart in Nature's breast, 
And brings to earth an eloquence of rest ; 
Till hill and vale, in beauty spreading far. 
Sleep in the care of many a dawning star 

3 



34 CONSOLA TION. 

And seem in dreams to breathe upon the air 

The deep contentment of a silent prayer ; 

Thus Consolation, dear as balmy eve, 

A vesper holds where weary spirits grieve. 

She soothes the anxious thoughts to calmer flow ; 

She stills the faltering tongue that tells of woe ; 

And all the ills that cloud the busy day 

At her approach steal noiselessly away. 




THE RAINBOW, 35 



THE RAINBOW. 



j^^^7'N the amethyst 
iMi^ ^ Of the purple mist 

I float hke a dream < 



Where the cloud's pearly fountain 
Shovs'ers over the mountain 

Its musical stream. 
Like buds on my bosom 
The sunny beams blossom 

With petals of light ; 
Fair- tinted as even, 
When the arches of heaven 

With sunset are bright. 
Oft beings Elysian, 
In mystical vision, 

With joy-smiling eyes, 



36 THE RAINBOW. 

Descend by my stair 
From the palace of air 

That floats in the skies. 
They sport in the dews 
Of my roseate hues, 

Like the nereids that glide 
Through the spray-showered caves 
By the rhythmical waves 

Of the moon-glowing tide. 

When the spirit of rest 
Folds the slumbering west 

With still shadows deep, 
And the moon from the pillow 
Of ocean's low billow 

Rises from sleep, 
I tint her soft veil. 
Translucent and pale 

With silvery light : 



THE RAINBOW. 37 

While the stars — the bright flowers 
That hang from the bowers 

Of the garden of night — 
In harmony twinkle, 
As quiet winds sprinkle 

Their blossoms with dew ; 
But I vanish away 
Ere the whisper of day 

Stirs heaven's deep blue. 
Is it strange that my grace 
Finds the fairest birthplace 

On the storm's melting shroud ? 
Thus Paradise bright 
Opens gates in the light 

Of Death's breaking cloud ! 



^^ 



38 A DREAM OF CHILD RE A' 




A DREAM OF CHILDREN. 

OD gives our sleep^ but Fancy paints our dreams, 
And weaves the dusky fabric of our rest ^ 
With colors caught from wakeful hours, and 
tints, 
And shadowings of sweet reality. 
Her noiseless hands create from sound and air 
The fleeting forms, the people of our sleep, 
Till darkness opens into smiling day, 
And scenes that charm us with still wonderment. 
Yet dreams are oft the open books of truth. 
Rich thoughts do often in their pages he, 
Like jewelled pebbles in some quiet stream. . 
The sun may rise and dry the silver rill, 
And yet the pure white stones unaltered stay ; 
So thoughts in dreams. Read if there be in mine 



A DREAM OF CHILDREN, 39 

A thought to keep : — I stood beside a flood 

That sang and sparkled on its sinuous v\'ay, 

Like some fair thing rejoicing in its hfe. 

The sun broke through the purple east, and clad 

The towering hills with yellow gold. The birds 

Grew happy for the light, and sang aloud. 

And as the breezes, fresh with forest dew. 

And sweet with kisses pure of opening flowers, 

Stole whispering by, among the glistening leaves, 

I heard a sound, like merry hohday, 

Float down the stream, and melt away, till lo ! 

A band of children, beautiful as stars, 

And numberless as sunbeams, singing songs 

Of happy hours, came dancing down the shores, 

And, e'er I knew it, took me by the hand 

And led me on. Through open fields we passed, 

Where butterflies rose from the fragrant grass 

Like living, bright-winged blossoms of the air. 

Through spreading vales we sped where stately trees. 



40 A DREAM OF CHILDREN. 

Stood clad in all the majesty of years. 

And on, still on we went, through pleasant scenes, 

Unweary with the journey, till the sun 

His parting smile spent on the rosy clouds, 

And like still sparks the stars grew into light. 

Night came and passed, as though some shadowy hand 

Had bhnded day's great eyes, and then straightway 

Had opened them again. I turned to find 

The laughing children, but instead I saw 

A lesser band — for some had passed away — 

Of aged men and women ; and I said, 

" Where are the dear young lives of yesterday? " 

And one who stood beside me white with years, 

Made answer : '' Yea, it seemeth but a day ! 

Life is a day whose moments are short years." 

And then he smiled upon me ; and I said, 

'' Axt these then they with whom I stood last eve? " 

And he made answer, ^^ These are they." And then — 

I woke and found my cheeks were damp with tears. 



GOLD AND SHADE, 41 



J^A 






GOLD AND SHADE. 

AR in the glowing arches of the west, 

The flaming altars of the evening burn ; 
And banks of cloud, in sunset glory dressed, 
Against the hills their dazzling bosoms turn. 

Through spreading vales the golden splendor streams, 
By towering pine, and cedars tall and fair ; 

The lake a flashing sea of glory seems, 

And sw^eet with bird-songs is the amber air. 

The beauty fades ; and one by one the stars, 
Lone chorists in the chapel halls of night. 

Gather at quiet heaven's chancel bars, 

Singing their unheard hymns with faces bright. 



42 



GOLD AND SHADE. 



And all is still except the brooks and breeze^ 
That fill with song and whisper low the wood, 

Where quietly the moon looks through the trees. 
And dreaming Beauty sleeps in solitude. 




THE BRIGHT REAPER, 43 




THE BRIGHT REAPER. 

SAW the years, like bright autumnal leaves, 

Fall on the frosty paths of ages flown ; 
And there an angel bound them up in sheaves, 
As one who garners in the fields alone, — 

As one who gamers quietly, and sings 

A song that all the hush with music thrills. 

While breezes low waft slumber from their wings, 
And Twilight listens on the lonely hills. 

Among the leaves, the smiling spirit found. 

Were some as fair as sun and dew could form ; 

But there were some her gentle fingers bound, 

That withered were and sered with rain and storm. 



44 THE BRIGHT REAPER, 

Then I was sad, be(!ause I knew that I 

Had wasted there full many a precious year ; 

The angel paused in pity at my sigh, 

And, knowing all my thinking, said with cheer : 

'^ Fear not ! the Future still shall bring the leaves, 
And if thou keepest them but sweet and fair, 

Then will I sift the withered from my sheaves, 
And place, instead, the bright and lovely there." 

In what the angel said I was consoled. 

I raised my head ; her smile upon me beamed. 
She passed ; I stood as one who in the cold 

Awakes, and misses some sweet thing he dreamed. 




SOA'G OF AUTUMN. 45 







SONG OF AUTUxMN. 

AIL, golden Season, sandalled with the frost 
And crowned with early stars ! Spirit, whose 
hand 
Gathers the fruitage of the seasons lost, 

And sows with splendor all the glowing land ! 
Hail, golden Autumn I hail I Thy name I sing 
From joys of earth and sky I I sing thy name, 
That burns with Beauty's Heaven- enkindled flame ! 
Hail, hearty hours, crowned promises of Spring ! 
Ring out your tunes, O merry brooklets ring I 
Be glad, O towering pines, that roar and sound 
With gales that sweep from ether's farthest bound I 
Be glad, for now is joy in e\-ery thing ! 



There is a pathos in the Summer's death, 
That blends with all the beauty of the year ; 



46 SONG OF AUTUMN, 

But there 's a gladness in the x\utumn's breath 

That steals away the mourner's pensive tear, 
And brightens ail the earth in every place. 
There is no sorrow found on Nature's face, 
But in the hearts of men who mourn her change, 

Nor understand her laws. Yet not of this 
I sing, but of the broad and boundless range 

Of this bright season's glowing happiness. 
These are the days when Heaven communes with Earth 

And paints the sunset on the forest boughs ; 
When farmer boys, with ringing shouts of mirth. 

Build up the hay in brown and fragrant mows ; 

When little, red-cloaked maids drive home the cow^s. 
With sweet glad songs heard on the evening hills ; 
When rivers flash, and droning cider-mills 

Run over w^ith their juices, pure and sweet. 

When from the yellow sheaves of golden wheat 
The merry reaper many a storehouse fills. 

These are the days when beehives yield their store. 



SONG OF AUTUMN. 47 

And nut-trees, shivering in the chilly winds, 

Shower down their load upon the forest floor, 
And many a kernel sweet the squirrel finds. 

We have been sorrowful j but now we sing 

For joy, for now is joy in everything ! 
These are the days of days that crown the Earth 

"With hope and wealth. Hail, Autumn ; they are thine ! 
These are the days when hearts beat full of mirth 

And cheeks grow red and fair, and eyes grow bright. 

And voices ring out clear, and steps grow light. 

These are the days f Hail, Autumn ; they are thine ! 




48 THE SLEEPING SHEPHERD, 



THE SLEEPING SHEPHERD. 




O ! where the dusky Night in beauty smileth 

O'er Latmos, vrith her host of mellow beams, 
Endymion, shepherd of the hills, beguileth 
His youthful soul in everlasting dreams. 
O'er Hesper's dewy shrine the pale moon gazes, — 

Diana, reigning goddess of the night, 
And 'neath her watchful rays the pearly hazes 

Steal soft away upon their noiseless flight. 
Her frosty heart grows warm with adoration. 
She bathes his rosy brow with kisses sweet, 
And asks of Love the dearest occupation, 

To guard his slumbers as the hours retreat. 
No more his lambs from distant vales are bleating ; 
Her smile has gathered back the wandering fold, 



THE SLEEPING SHEPHERD. 49 

And now as hushed the winged Night is fleeting, 

She crowns his peaceful brow with beams of gold. 
And so he sleeps, forever and forever. 

In one long dream of changeless Paradise ; 
Yet Time that silent face shall alter never, 

For youth eternal seals his smihng eyes. 
Dream on, Endymion ! Dream of hills Elysian ! 

Nor hfe nor death shall mar thy sweet repose, 
For Fancy paints for thee thy mystic vision, 

Where sleep, hke some calm river, ceaseless flows. 

4 




so GRANDMOTHER, 




GRANDMOTHER. 

EAR Grandmother, there was no brow more 
beautiful than thine. 
Thy loving spirit showed itself in every wrinkled 
line. 
The softest word of thy sweet voice bade all our troubles 

cease ; 
The gende look of thy meek eyes w^as full of faith and 

peace. 
Thou wast so patient, day by day, so far from drear com- 
plaining. 
We never knew when, in thy hfe, 't was stormy, dark, or 
raining. 

We never knew when thou wert sad, for on thy radiant face 
The features always wore a smile of calm and saintly grace. 



GRANDMOTHER, 5 1 

We saw no cloud, we found no shade, that told of pain or 

fear; 
Thy noble heart kept to itself the bitter, secret tear. 

And well we know that thou didst hide from us thy grief 

and sorrow ; 
That thou didst hush thy sighs lest they might cloud our 

bright to-morrow. 

O cherished one, we cannot feel that thou art far away. 
The night of darkness only falls to measure day from day ; 
And so the shade that hides thy smile, that was of angel 

worth, 
Is but the shadow measuring out the Heavens from the 

earth. 
God only takes to hold more dear the loved ones he has 

given : 
And thou art still our Grandmother, — our Grandmother 

in Heaven. 



52 OCTOBER. 



OCTOBER. 




ESIDE the meadow bars the lowing cows 
Gather at fall of eve, with frosty breath. 
The gold of Autumn gilds the forest boughs. 
How sweetly charmed is Summer to her death ! 

The chilly wind sighs round the naked thorn ; 

The dainty flowers have perished on the glade ; 
The Eastern star, at close of even bom, 

Shines cold through dewy night's returning shade. 

But when from morning's gates, at purple day, 

The smiling spirit of the light returns, 
And over towering pines the sunbeams play. 

As broad and bright the day's great censer bums ; 



OCTOBER, 



S3 



Oh, then there is a glory in the air, 

Such as the pride of Summer never gave ! 

A gladdening presence hngers everywhere, 
That brightens Beauty's pathway to the gi'ave. 




54 • MORNING AND EVENING. 




MORNING AND EVENING. 

I. 

SAW the smiling Morn, with dewy cheeks, 
Rise from the melting shades of fleeting night, 

And in his early flush of beauty bright 
Flood earth and all her vales and mountain peaks. 
The wandering clouds in glowing hues arrayed. 

Upon their silent wings. 
Through sunny ether's azure portals strayed 

Like joyous living things. 
A thousand songs broke from the vernal woods, 

A thousand echoes woke the sleeping hills ; 
Earth sang, and heaven's listening solitudes. 
Outspreading wide and silent overhead. 
With joyous spirits seemed inhabited. 
And gayly rang the glittering mountain rills ; 



MORNING AND EVENING. 55 

And silent from her lone and lofty nest 
The stately eagle rose with rapid flight, 
Her proud form floating in the golden light, 

Hope, life, and gladness billowing her breast. 

II. 

I saw the mild-browed Eve, wdth pensive eyes, 
Sprinkle the noiseless steps of parting day 
With quiet dew, while shone with distant ray 
The evening star, upon the darkening skies. 
A dreamy languor rested o'er the vale. 
The birds had closed their tune ; 
Heaven bowed her lovely features, calm and pale, 

And did with Earth commune. 
Sound slept the flowers, and drowsy breezes blew 

With whispers low that stirred each shadowy tree ; 
Peace o'er the world her balmy curtain drew ; 

And Night, far sinking through the dusky west. 
With quiet smile of blessing murmured '' Rest ! " 
Arid all things seemed to sleep in mystery. 



56 MORNING AND EVENING, 

Then did the pure moon turn her holy gaze 
Across tlie convent arches of the night, 
Like some fair nun, that, with a brow of light, 

Prays softly, ever smiling as she prays. 




CUPID AT THE GATE. S7 



CUPID AT THE GATE. 



s^-^j^lN dreams I saw the pearly gates 



6M^S Of blissful Paradise, 



.C3^' 



Where stood an angel bright as morn, 

With sacred beaming eyes. 
Upon his bosom shone a star 

With light as warm as breath. 
'T was his to guard those jasper walls — 

His name was Gentle Death. 

Lo ! as I gazed, fair Cupid came 

Upon his wings of love. 
And with a voice that sounded like 

The coo of some lone dove, 



58 CUPID AT THE GATE. 

He plead, " Pray ope for me the gate ; 

I '11 roam the world no more ! 
I 'm weary of the earthly way, 

My pilgrimage is o'er 1 " 



Then Gentle Death made soft reply 

(Yet was no entrance given) — 
'^ Return, thou wayward child, for thou 

Art needed not in Heaven ! " 
''And must I then depart? " he grieved. 

'' Thou must," the angel said ; 
'' For all is love in Paradise — 

And yet, be comforted ! 

'' Leave not the Heavenly gate with tears ; 

But, turning, think how fair 
The world may be 'neath thy dear reign ; 

Without it, think how bare ! " 



CUPID AT THE GATE. 59 

Love sadly spread his quivering wings 

Upon his downward flight, 
And in my dream I saw him pass 

Across the silent night. 

But on his way his mournful face 

Each moment brighter grew j 
His tender eyes, hke two fair stars, 

Shone through their tearful devr. 
I longed to watch his farther course ; 

But, ah I it sometimes seems 
As though we always woke when in 

The dearest part of dreams. 

And thus I woke ; yet, waking, thought 

How Cupid's task was given 
To make this barren air of ours 

More like the breath of Heaven. 



6o CUPID AT THE GATE, 

I thought how holy was the bond 

Of mortals' faithful love, 
Since Cupid found his own sweet charm 

Immortalized above. 




TO A CLOUD, 



6l 



TO A CLOUD. 




HOU ain" thing of sno\^y mist. 

Thou spirit child of sun and dew, 
Bv every wooing zeph}T kissed 
That stirs the silent ether's blue ! 
Thou semblance of a pleasure true ! 
Unconscious thing of beaut}' rare ; 

Xew-bom with e\-ery changing hue 
That tints the mild translucent air ! 
Thou happy, happy thing that knows not earthly care 



T was from the soulless seas and streams. 

The vales where brooding vapors lay, 
That thou, with all thy golden dreams 

Wert bom to charm the smiling day. 

'T was from the damp and mouldering clay, 



62 . TO A CLOUD. 

Where deathly shades their darkness trace, 

That thou wert clad in rich array, 
The blushing bride of Morn's embrace ; . 
/\nd now, God hath not made a thing more full of grace ! 

Float on ! O heavenly eremite, 

The purple hills and mountains o'er, ^ 

That wear the Summer's crowning hght 

On frosty foreheads proud and hoar ! 

Be ^lad I though thou not evermore, 
In pure delight and glory mild, 

Shalt roam that blue mysterious shore 
Where past eternity hath smiled. 
Rejoice, O airy cloud ! though thou art Death's own child ! 

Ah, happy me ! My Hfe, like thine, 

Shall from this earthly darkness rise, 
For God shall be my Sun divine. 

And earth shall give me to the skies. 



TO A CLOUD. 63 

My soul shall that sweet realm apprize, 
Oh, not like thee to melt away, 

For they who breathe in Paradise 
Are dwellers of Iixnnortal Day, 
x\nd there a pleasure is a joy that lives for aye ! 




64 SCHOOLHOUSE IN THE GLADE. 




LITTLE SCHOOLHOUSE IN THE GLADE. 

I. 

LITTLE schoolhouse in the glade, 

Where are the children's faces, — 
The band that round your porches played, 
And ran in merry races ? 
Where are the footsteps at the door ! 

The ringing, happy voices ? 
I listen ; but no more, no more 
Your hall with song rejoices ; 
O little schoolhouse in the glade, 
Gone are the happy voices ! 

II. 

O Httle schoolhouse in the glade, 
You bring sweet memories to me. 



SCHOOLHOUSE IN THE GLADE, 65 

Once I about your porches played, 

Ere care or trouble knew me ; 
Once I, a careless, laughing child, 

Along your pathway w^ended, — 
The path that now in grasses wild 

And tangled weeds is ended ; 
O little schoolhouse in the glade. 

Once I that pathway wended ! 

III. 

O little schoolhouse in the glade. 

Your children are departed. 
They leave your dear old walls to fade ; 

I bless them, broken-hearted. 
Your windows small so grim have grown ; 

Your pleasant ways, so dreary ! 
You stand like one who, left alone. 

Awaits death sad and wear}^ ; 
O little schoolhouse in the glade. 

Your ways have all grown dreary ! 



66 SCHOOLHOUSE IN THE GLADE. 



IV. 

little schoolhouse in the glade, 
I knew the happy faces ; 

1 knew the band that laughed and played, 
And ran in merry races. 

Some roam the world as poor as you, 
And some know sorrow never ; 

And one, my joyous boyhood knew, 
Sleeps on the hill forever ; 

But, little schoolhouse in the glade. 
Some think of sorrow never I 

V. 

O little schoolhouse in the glade. 
The wintry winds may shake you ; 

Yet all the scars by seasons made 
Shall only fairer make you. 



SCHOOLHOUSE IN THE GLADE, 6/ 

My heart shall ever hold you dear ; 

You live on I\Iemory's pages, — 
A name that calls a happy tear, 

And many a pam assuages ; 
O little schoolhouse in the glade, 

You lighten Memory's pages ! 



VI. 

htde schoolhouse in the glade, 
If it be true that Heaven 

Contains the joys of earth that fade, 
With all that hope hath given, — 

1 know that I shall find you there, 

With all your happy voices. 
And see your merry faces fair, 

Wiere every tongue rejoices ; 
O little schoolhouse in the glade, 

Safe are the happy voices ! 



68 THE NIGHTINGALE, 



THE NIGHTINGALE. 



A REFRAIN. 




NE night as I wandered alone dirough the wood, 
I heard, from the depths of the still sohtude, 
The voice of the nightingale, pensive and low 
As the purl of a fountain in soft overflow. 
Enraptured I paused, and the moon's mellow sheen 
Stole tranquilly down through the foliage green, 
Till the slumbering shadows awoke from their dreams, 
And duskily skirted the pure silver beams. 
Aweary, I seated myself by the way. 
On a moss-covered log, with its cushions of gray. 
From the shades that embosomed a neighboring tree 
The Nightingale sang his sad story to me ; 



THE NIGHTINGALE. 69 

x\nd the passing breeze, swaying the bushes apart^ 
Bore the low, plaintive notes to the depths of my heart ; 
While the valley repeated the close of each strain 
With a soft modulation and sob-like refrain. 



^^ The beautiful lily 

That grew in the vale 
Has closed its dear eyes, 

And its sweet face is pale. 
The tall ferns bend over 

And whisper in vain, 
For ne'er may the flower 

Make answer a-^rain. 

o 

Its petals are folded, and bovred is its head : — 

O sorrow ! O sorrow ! 

The lily is dead 1 " 
The low echoes murmur, ^' The lilv is dead ! " 



70 THE NIGHTINGALE, 

II. 

'^ No more may my singing 

Its sweet raptures woo ; 
No more on its bosom 

Shall glisten the dew ; 
No more shall the butterfly 

Whisper his love, 
As he hovers and sways 

On his bright wings above ; 
No more shall the bee with its kisses be fed ; 
O sorrow ! O sorrow ! 
The lily is dead ! " 
The low echoes murmur, '' The lily is dead ! '' 

III. 

" The stranger that wandered 
At eve through the wood 

Has taken the joy 
Of its deep solitude. 



THE NIGHTIXGALE. 7 1 

His passing foot trampled 

The blossom of snow, 
And crushed the fair flower 
That God made to grow. 
Now silent it droops by the brook's mossy bed ; 
O sorrow ! O sorrow 1 
The lily is dead ! " 
The lovv- echoes mmiiuir, ••' The hly is dead ! " 

A mournful hush fell on the listening vale 

When the grieving bird finished his sorrowful tale. 

But ah ! as the breeze swayed the bushes apart, 

His song from the distance stole back to my heart ; 

And the trees seemed to whisper that rustled o'erhead, 

" O breezes blow sofdy ! The lily is dead ! " 

I returned to the brooklet, and close on its bank 

I saw where the delicate lily-bell sank : 

And I knew 't was the fall of my own idle feet 

That had taken the life of the flower so sweet ; 

And gently I Hfted its fair drooping head, 

And prayed, ^'God forgive me ! Thy dear flower is dead." 



72 



HYMN OF THE DEEP. 




HYMN OF THE DEEP. 

BEAR, O man, upon my swell 
The echoes of forgotten ages ; 
]\Iy waves have tolled the solemn knell 
Of ancient kings and early sages. 

The crags and rocks along my shore, 
The ever stern and ponderous bowlder, 

Are old, ten thousand years and more, 
But I, O man, than all am older. 



Earth once with darkest gloom was cast ; 

Lo 1 when the lurid clouds were riven. 
My surging waves were tossing fast 

Beneath the archimi brow of heaven ! 



HYMN OF THE DEEP, 73 

I bore upon mv gi*and^ cold breast 

The first glad light of Nature's morning; 

And God my host of waters blest 

Ere Eden heard the voice of warning. 

Through all the lapse of fleeting years, 

Through war and through the world's upheaval, 

Through nations' joys and nations' tears, 
I echo still the voice prmieval. 

The angry storms o'erhead may beat, 

x\nd loud and long may peal the thunder ; 

Yet, — though the stars m heaven retreat, 
And hide away in awe and wonder, — 

Lo ! I but laugh and throw my spray. 

Till toward the lowering sky it tosses, 
And love to watch the lightning play. 

As through the darksome night it crosses. 



74 HYMN OF THE DEEP, 

I strive with all the winds that blow, 
And often do I roar the loudest ; 

The raging storms are proud, yet know 
That I am mightiest and proudest. 

They seek to lift me from my bed. 

But I with deepest scorn deride them ; 

They howl in wrath above my head, 
But with my hissing foam I liide them. 

The sea-birds dart away in fright. 

But my calm heart is brave and fearless ; 

I glory in the awful sight, 

And in the dai'kness wild and cheerless. 

No earthly power can conquer me, 

And none from me my strength can sever ; 

As I was born, so shall I be, — 
Unaltered and unconquered ever. 



HYMN OF THE DEEP, 75 

O man ! some call me cruel Sea, 

And look on me with sighs and weeping ; 

And some bring all their woe to me, 
And trust their future to my keeping. 

Some life-worn souls seek out my waves 
To bury burning shame and trouble ; 

And no eye knows their lonely graves. 
As o'er the spot my w^aters bubble. 

The sailor lad with youthful brow, 

The monarch in his perished glor}% 
The lisping babe, so silent now. 

The aged man whose hair is hoary, — 

All these within my depths I hold, 
Unconscious of my rush and beating. 

Mid useless heaps of pearl and gold 
That make a sum of no repeating. 



^6 HYMN OF THE DEEP, 

O man ! I bear upon my swell 
The echoes of forgotten ages ; 

My waves have tolled the solemn knell 
Of ancient kings and early sages. 

My flood shall beat the march of time, 
As slow the measured years are passing ; 

From pole to pole, from clime to cHrae, 
My wealth shall ever be amassing. 

My tides shall hold their ancient reign, 
Till God say unto me, '' O Ocean, 

Thy longer life to me were vain ! " 

And hush my voice and calm my motion. 

Then break, O Deep, along thy shore, 
Obedient to thy King Supernal ! 

Break on, break on for ever more. 

Thou semblance of the Sea Eternal ! 



AUTUMX COLORS, 



77 




AUTU^IX COLORS. 



I. 



IKE tasselled spears of yellow gold, 
At Autumn's ruddy tide of eve, 
Between the forest and the wold, 



The full, rich gi'ain stands ripe to sheave j 
The slanting sunbeams interweave 
The shining straws with quiet light. 
Till day's departing spirits leave 
The fading cloudlets soft and white. 
Like fleecy foam on starry seas of night. 



II. 



The maple boughs, with ruby hues. 
Reflected lie in crvstal streams, 



78 AUTUMN COLORS. 

And shine and flash with sparkling dews 
When day returns from frosty dreams. 
The sk^, so blue and cloudless, seems 

The arch of some celestial way, 

Which leads to that bright spot that teems 

With spirits passed from earthly day, 

Who, entering once, remain in joy for aye. 



III. 

The lofty pine unaltered stands. 

And — like a king with noble mien, 

Who in his very form commands — 
Uplifts its haughty plume of green, 
And reigns triumphant in the scene. 

And though the wintry season falls. 

And rough gales sweep its boughs between, 

It roars through Autumn's forest halls. 

And answers every clarion tongue that calls. 



AUTUMN COLORS. 79 



IV. 



When sun and frost have \n'ought theh spell. ■ 

And earth reveals her fairest charm^ 
Then Beauty breathes her sad farewell 

And smks to rest on Winter's arm ; 

Her pure^ glad smile, so bright, so calm, 
Fades \\\\h the falling of the leaves, 

And Nature stands with outstretched palm, 
As one, who asking, naught receives, 
And through the gathering darkness roams and grieves. 




8o 



MINUTE SOXGS. 



MINUTE SONGS. 



ON THE BEACH. 




SIMPLE cottage on a shore ; 

Two children by the door at play ; 

A smking sun, a closing day, 
That fades the rosy waters o'er : 
Two fishers drawing up the beach 
A boat beyond the breakers' reach ; 
At sea, a lighthouse towering high — 
A snowy pillar 'gainst the sky. 



II. 

HOME, SWEET HOME. 

A HOMESTEAD old, and in the door 
A grandame smiling in her sleep ; 



MINUTE SONGS. ■ 8 1 

Three kittens rollinor in a heap 
A ball of worsted on the floor ; 
A window where a child's bright eyes 
Are gazing upward at the skies ; 
While through the trellis and the vines 
The dreaming sunlight softly shines. 

III. 

A STILL HOUR. 

A NIGHT thrice sweeter than the day. 

With skies like purple velvet dark, 

And flecked with many a ghstening spark 
Of stars, and mist-like milkv wav. 
A songless night-bird floating through 

An open space between the woods, 
With wings as noiseless as the dew 

That falls on leafy solitudes. 
6 



82 MINUTE SONGS. 



IV. 

AT HARBOR. 

An open bay : blue skies, and clouds 
White as the foam that crests the sea ; 
Great vessels anchored quietly, 
With sailors working at the shrouds ; 
Gulls wheeling o'er the sparkling brine, 
Like snowflakes drifting in sunshine ; 
A graceful yacht seen far away, 
With open sail and streamers gay. 

V. 
DAISY. 

A CHILD whose merry voice beguiles 
More deftly than a siren's power ; 
A mouth that like a tender flower 

Is ever blossoming with smiles ; 



MINUTE SONGS, 83 

Bright eyes, the stars of four glad years, 
And patt'ering feet with music shod ; 

A chijki fair as the name she bears, 

A flower whose sweetness sprang from God. 




84 SUMMER MORNING, 



SUMMER MORNING. 



LONG the depths of azure, where the gold of 
morning lies, 
From rosy-tinted solitudes the snowy vapors 
rise ; 
And morning, like a blossom, fills with fragrance earth 
and skies. 
And crowns the purple mountain-peaks with light. 
From the woods I hear the music of the shadow-buried 

streams, 
And the joy that fills my bosom, like the song repeated 

seems. 
Lo ! every dewy flower like a spirit wakes from dreams. 
How sweet a world is gathered from the night ! 



SUMMER MORNING. 85 

The dream of morning passes as an inspiration dies ; 
The hght of gladness fades and leaves my joy-illumined 

eyes ; 
And yet a flood of glory on the smiling valley lies, 

More bright than when the flames of dawning rose. 
Down the roadway, green with grasses, where the slanting 

shadows play, 
The drover guides his oxen toward the meadows stacked 

with hay ; 
Beyond him speeds a river, gemmed with lilies white as 

spray, 
And pastured herds are drinking where it flows. 




86 A WINTER SCENE. 



A WINTER SCENE. 



g^^^^Si'HE earth is wrapped in one white dream of snow, 



The crescent, hke a broken shield of gold, 
Lies on those purple depths where star-flowers 
grow, 
And shines with lambent beams across the wold. 

O'er far horizon-lines the mountains lift 

Their crags against the cold, unfathomed sky, 

Encased with snow in many a marble drift. 
Like monuments of centuries passed by. 

Through ghostly forest aisles, where not a leaf 
Flecks with its emerald green the frosty boughs, 

The haunting winds, with swelling tales of grief, 
The frozen trees from heavy dreams arouse. 



A WINTER SCENE. 8/ 

And sudden, by the moonlight's pallid beams, 
A band of silent wolves speed though the snow ; 

As, over sorrow's pillow, troubled dreams 

From slumber's unknown borders come and go. 

Far from a distant wilderness of woods 

The fearless owl laughs at the passing hour ; 

Then silence broods upon the solitudes, 

And wraps the midnight in her solemn power. 

A shadow falls on all the hills around, 

And hidden is the moon's far- spreading light. 

As o'er the skies, with all their stars profound, 
The clouds float by like dreamy swans of night. 

The shadowy hour melts into purple day ; 

And, throu2:h Aurora's fields of azure air, 
The crimson stream of morning pours its way, 

And tints the snowclad hills with colors rare. 



88 A WINTER SCENE. 

And soon, beneath a golden atmosphere, 
The twinkling crystals of the starry snow — 

Like rainbow-flashing diamonds pm*e and clear — 
For miles outspread, set all the fields aglow. 

And sharp and strong the north wind fills the skies, 
And sifts and smooths the downy seas of w^hite. 

Till Nature wipes the sorrow from her eyes 
And smiles to see her w^orld so fair and bright. 



^-^^^^ 



TO THE EVENTNG STAR. 89 



TO THE EVENING STAR. 



^^^ESPLENDENT Star ! when through the nightly 



halls 
The dewy shade of closing darkness falls, 



To thee I turn my weary, watchful eyes, 

To thee my silent thoughts in rapture rise. 

As pillowed on the soft, translucent haze. 

Thou charmest nature with refulgent rays. 

The sister stars thy praises seem to sing. 

While all the universe is listening. 

There is a music in the beauteous night. 

That steals from Fancy's lyre in echoes light, — 

That to the inner sense its note attunes. 

And with the quiet thought in peace communes. 



90 



TO THE EVENING STAR. 



O gentle Star ! soft ray on Night's dark scroll. 
Thy tender beam thou sheddest on my soul. 
Thou fillest me with rest ; for lo, through thee. 
The God of love, my Father, smiles on me ! 




THE SHADOW-BOATMAN. 91 




THE SHADOW-BOATMAN. 
A BALLAD. 

I. 

WAS early morn, the skies were blue. 
And the breeze was soft and fair. 
As on the banks of the river I saw 
A child with sunny hair. 
Lo ! a boatman hailed her from his skiff, 

And he cried, '' Oh come with me, 
And I will carry you down the stream. 

To the boundless, open sea ! " 
The little maid looked up and smiled : 

'' Farewell, farewell ! " cried she ; 
And the boatman pushed his bark away, 
Down the flood toward the open sea. 



92 THE SHADOW-BOATMAN. 



II. 

I followed along the river's bank, 

And soon an old man I met ; 
His hair was gray, his brow was o'ercast, 

And his cheeks with tears were wet. 
The boatman hailed him from his skiff, 

And he cried, '' Oh come with me, 
And I will carry you down the stream, 

To the boundless, open sea ! " 
The old man raised his weary head, 

" Farewell, farewell !" cried he. 
And the boatman pushed his bark away, 

Down the flood toward the open sea. 

III. 

Again I followed along the bank, 
Till I saw a beggar forlorn ; 



THE SHADOW-BOATMAN, 93 

His clothes were tattered with many a rent, 

And his face was haggard and worn. 
The boatman hailed him from his skiff, 

And he cried, ^' Oh come with me, 
i\nd I will carry you down the stream, 

To the boundless, open sea ! " 
The beggar shuffled along to the boat, 

"• Farewell, farewell ! " cried he ; 
And the boatman pushed his bark away, 

Down the flood toward the open sea. 

IV. 

Once more I followed the gliding boat ; 

Lo ! a king, with pageant grand. 
Stood gazing upon the waters deep, 

That idly lapped the sand. 
The boatman hailed him from his skiff, 

And he cried, '' Oh come with me. 



94 THE SHADOW-BOATMAN, 

And I will carry }'ou down the stream, 
To the boundless^ open sea ! '^ 

Then the king he turned about to his lords 
'- Farewell^ farewell ! " cried he ; 

And the boatman pushed his bark away, 
Down the flood to the open sea. 



And silently he phed his oar, 

As broader grew the stream ; 
Through the distant haze they melted away, 

Like a shadow in a dream. 
But I heard the boatman faintlv call, 

xA.nd his tones still echo to me, 
'' Thus carry I all down the silent flood 

That glides to the open sea 1" 



THE SHADOW-BOATMAN. 95 



VI. 

Thank God that all go, for so shall all meet 

i\long that beauteous shore ; 
Thank God that not always we linger with him 

Who plies his ancient oar. 
Thank God that Faith hears a sweeter voice call, 

^^ All ye weary ones come unto ]^Ie ! " 
Thank God that the boatman ne'er crosses the tide 

Of the glorious, boundless sea ! 






96 



NIGHT. 



NIGHT. 




ALM Nighty with what a silent majesty 
Thou foldest Nature to thy dewy breast ! 
Lo ! when along the west the last fair smile 
Of closing eve in blushing beauty fades, 
And on the quiet fields of heaven the stars 
Unfold their beams and blossom into light, 
Dost thou not breathe thy worship unto God ? 
And, from the soul-deep hush that folds thy plain, 
Hold sweet communion with His gentle voice ? 
Oft does the darkness steal upon my way, 
And gloomy fears, like falling shadows, mar 
The day-smile of my hopes. O Nature ! teach 
To me the secret of thy calm, deep trust. 
That I, like thee, may make the heavy hours 
Of life dear with the infinite peace of God ! 



NIGHT, 



97 



So shall the shades that round my pathway close 
Fold me as softly and as tenderly 
As to her breast the silent Night folds thee, 
And there shall yet be beauty m the gloom. 

7 




98 ''VOICES OF THE NIGHT.'' 




^^ VOICES OF THE NIGHT." 

IN MEMORY OF LONGFELLOW. 

WANDERED where the breezes, sad and light, 
Stkred softly through the solemn forest dim, 
And sang, like spirit- voices of the night, 
Among the leaves their sweet, seoHan hymn. 



Methought I heard their words deep in my soul : 
It may have been my fancy framed the theme, 

And gave it to the music as it stole 

Among the trees, and melted like a dream. 

They may have been my fancy's words ; but, ah ! 

They linger in my heart, and ever will ; 
For, when I listen by the evening star. 

The calm, sweet ear of memory hears them still. 



''VOICES OF THE NIGHT:' 99 

" No more his gentle feet shall wander here ! " 
So fell the song upon the breathing air ; 

'' No more shall Nature whisper in his ear, 

The charm that soothes the weary world of care. 

" The morning dawns and seeks his smile in vain. 

Earth listens, but his cherished voice is dumb ; 
And daylight dies, and eve returns again, 

And darkness falls^ and yet he does not come. 

'' No more, no more his feet shall wander here ! " 
So died the song upon the breathing air ; 

And through the trees a star shone still and clear, 
As though to smile its consolation there. 

I knew^ of whom the mourning voices sung ; 

I too had missed his face, with many tears. 
Ah ! he who bears a blessing on his tongue 

Knows not how many a listening spirit hears ! 



100 '''VOICES OF THE NIGHT:' 

And he who sings, beside the way of life, 
A song dull Sorrow's heart with hope to fill, 

In Time's broad thoroughfare of toil and strife, 
Knows not how many mourn when he is still ! 




HIDDEN MUSIC. lOI 




HIDDEN MUSIC. 

AN Summer hear the roses grow? 

Or hear the dews, like tiny crystal bells, 
The fairy knell of evening ring? 
A sound as low as fall of snow 

To Nature's ear some tale of music tells ; 
The very stars can hear each other sing. 
Then Summer hears the roses grow. 
And hears the dews, like crystal bells^ 
The fairy knell of evening ring. 
And so the ear of God can hear 
Our souls grow pure and fair, 
E'en though our words stir not the air, 
Nor sign we make unless by smile or tear ; 
Heaven listens to the earth like one eternal ear ! 



I02 A VISION OF MUSIC. 



A VISION OF MUSIC. 



I. 




LANGUOR o'er the weary- minstrel stole 

As in the solitude he swept his strings ; 
A dream imbued the quiet of his soul — 
A dream of joy and rich imaginings — 
As blissful as the lotus-blossom brings 
To storm-worn pilgrim cast on foreign isle ; 

And voices, sweet as Venus' bird that sings 
At starry ^hush of Summer's midnight smile. 
From forms unseen^ rose on the breathing calm erewhile. 



II. 



Soft echoes melted down the shadowy hills^ 
As though the naiads of the forest streams 



A VISION OF MUSIC, IO3 

Had gathered, from their low sad-sobbing rills, 
To haunt in harmony his Hstening dreams, — 
Or float with spirit-song beneath the beams 

Of pale Diana, pensive and alone, 

Seeking her lover shepherd-boy with themes 

Of love, till all her gaze enamoured shone, 

As bright as though a star into a sun had grown. 

III. 

The minstrel, wTapped in hushed expectancy, 
As softly near the pulsing music drew. 

Turned to the sound, where, in tranquillity, 
One still star shone the open forest through, 
Fresh as the curtain of the falHng dew. 

There he beheld a bright, ethereal train 
Float endlessly from solemn heaven blue, 

As though those azure portals, parted twain, 

Had opened earth to Eden's wonderment again. 



104 ^ VISION OF MUSIC. 



IV. 

And bands of spirits gathered round him there, 

With foreheads haloed in revealing light, 
And smiles as those of sinless children fair, 

And forms apparelled in a lustrous white. 

Around the neighboring valley hung the night ; 
Yet, where they stood, a beauty like the morn 

Shone o'er the thyme and blossoms dewy-bright, — 
A strange, sweet day that in the night was born, 
As though a flower should blossom on a leafless thorn ! 



In that celestial host he recognized 

The spirits of his songs, transformed and fair ! 

A glad note echoed from his soul suiprised ; 
And when it melted on the pregnant air, 
Its added angel joined the others there. 



A VISION OF MUSIC. \0\ 

The songs that he in youth, in age, had sung, 

In time of joy or sorrow, peace or care, 
Around him now Hke glad enchantment hung ; 
In harmony unearthly pure their music rung. 

VI. 

The songs that into silence. Beauty's grave, 

Had ebbed away as though to sound no more, — 

The songs that he to years departed gave. 

Deeming, when closed, their dear existence o'er, — 
All, all hke echoes rose again and bore, 

The airy forms elysian spirits bear. 

He knew them only by their sound before, 

But now he saw their heavenly being fair, 

And knew them by the graces the undying wear. 

VII. 

And now he knew that on the glad bright earth 
For all that bears a charm there is no death. 



Io6 A VISION OF MUSIC. 

But that which seems to die finds higher birth 

In that fair spot where Beauty glorieth. 

He knew that ever from this mortal breath 
The joy we breathe hves on, and that somewhere 

Is treasured up the good that mortal saith, 
With all the smiles life's countless features w^ear. 
We give our joys to Heaven, and we shall find them 
there ! 

VIII. 

The vision passed ; and through the purple skies 

The tide of morning rose in waves of light. 
The fading stars grew dim, hke drowsy eyes 

That weary, watching through the solemn night. 

A bank of sinking cloudlets, still and white, 
That crowned the distant hills with snowy crest. 

Grew softly red ; while grand and proud and bright 
The Sun's great smile broke from the east to west, 
And bathed in living glory Nature's boundless breast. 



A VISION OF MUSIC. 107 



IX. 

The minstrel woke j and from his dulcet lyre 
He drew a strain so eloquently sweet, 

So full of hope and life and holy fire, 

The listening birds, in blossom-hung retreat, 
Came forth with wondering joy his face to greet. 

Then joined with his their loud, glad morning song. 
He rose and wended on with lighter feet, — ■ 

No more he found his daily journey long ; 

Immortal was his calling, and his spirit strong ! 






I08 THE WINTER PILGRIM, 




THE WINTER PILGRIM. 
A LEGEND. 

NEW day dawned through winter's gate of snow ; 
Encased in crystal cold stood each white tree ; 
Blue was the cloudless zenith, but, below, 
The orient skies burned like a golden sea. 

The pines, like warriors, clad in icy mail. 

Waved high their towering plumes against the sky ; 

While, breathing through the woods their whispered tale. 
The winds with rustling garments hurried by. 

The Sun, — great flaming angel-face of day, — 
Above the hills his dazzling brow revealed, 

Where, bathed in light, the winter glories lay, 
And avalanches in their thunder pealed. 



THE WIXTER PILGRIM, 109 

Through Loraine's drifted village -street, alone, 

An aged harper trod with weary feet ; 
The light of morning on his features shone, 

But in his life the pulse of evening beat. 

His fancy, swapped with glowing visions warm. 
In memory to his native country turned ; 

About him lay the footprints of the storm, 
But in his soul Italian summers burned. 

He dreamed that on his native hills he trod ; 

He heard the songs his laughing children sung. 
Where arching skies, blue in the light of God, 

With Nature's choral-incantations rung. 

Cold blew the cutting wind j the vision passed. 

The skies, aflush with rose and crimson gay^ 
By gathering clouds grew sudden overcast. 

As dark as sands in some old desert gray. 



no ^ THE WIXTER PILGRIM, 

He drew his tattered cloak about his breast ; 

At many a door he plead for shelter warm ; 
Of all he asked, but one would hear his quest 

And bid him enter from the raging storm. 

And who was she ? A widow, poor as he, — 
Save for the roof whose shelter God had given ; 

Yet willingly the pilgrim welcomed she, — 
And angels have recorded it in Heaven. 

'' Z^ly Kttle one is dying, sire ! " she said, 

" But God forbid that this should close my heart ! ". 
The aged pilgrim heard and bowed his head ; 

He too had known stern sorrow's bitter smart. 

'' Show me thy little one. Where is she laid? " 
He asked ; and there was pity in his tone. 

She led him softly to the stricken maid. 

Upon whose brow the peace of dying shone. 



THE WINTER PILGRIM, III 

'^ Her name is Gwendolen/' the widow said^ 
" And she has been the sunhght of my years." 

The aged pilgrim heard, and bowed his head, 
But saw not, for his eyes were dim with tears. 

And then he raised to God his trembling hands ; 

A glor}- like an angel's lit his eyes ; 
He prayed ; and He who hears and understands, 

E'er from our lips the faint petitions rise, 

Filled him with peace. Then, at the maiden's side. 
The aged sire his ti*easured harp unbound : 

He swept the strings, and music rose and died 
And all the air was filled with holy sound. 

It may have been that He who cured of old 
Was present in that life-inspiring chord ; 

It may be Music's sacred tongue of gold 

On earth breathes forth the language of the Lord ; 



112 THE WINTER PILGRIM, 

For Gwendolen her childish arms upraised ; 

The color lit her cheeks ; fled was her pain. 
Her brow grew bright as though her eyes had gazed 

At Heaven, to wear the light on earth again. 

Her heart grew strong with pure glad life renewed, 
And from her dying bed she rose and sang, 

While from the barren floor to rafter rude 
The humble cottage with the music rang. 

At eve the hoary pilgrim left the door ; 

And they who, watching, saw him pass away, 
Thought that it was the angel of the poor. 

Who cured the widow's dying child that day. 

For all his face, they said, with glory shone — 

With a bright aureole of holy light ; 
And they who left him in the storm alone, 
. Made many a prayer of penitence that night. 



THE WINTER PILGRIM. 



113 



Far toward the northern hills he took his way ; 

And, when the sunset left the wintry skies, 
Through Heaven's glittering gate of stars, they say, 

Bright spirits led him into Paradise. 




SONNETS.. 




IN THE WOODS. 

IS sweet from busy scenes to steal away, 
And roam the quiet woods, free and alone. 
Where drowsy winds, with soothing undertone, 
The languid music of the forest play, 
Charming from thought the busy cares of day. 
Oh, where may Pleasure find a richer throne 
Than some gray rOck with mosses overgrown, 
Begemmed with dew, and decked with budding spray? 

There, where the silver streams glide babbling by, 
The blossoms spring, as though some magic power, 

Grieving to let so sweet a music die, 
Had turned each water-note into a flower, 

To smile refreshing beauty where the eye 
Of Sorrow might find pleasure for an hour. 



1 1 8 MV FLA VMA TE. 



MY PLAYMATE, 




ING me a song of those all-happy hours 
When with my little playmate, fair and true, 
At sound of bell that told of lessons through, 
From school I wandered homeward through the flowers. 
Sing of the butterflies, the meadow bowers, 

The bee that droned the one long song he knew, 
Till, with the parting smile of day, the dew 
Fell on the plain in silent, unseen showers. 

Sing softly of my little playmate fair ; 
For if in Heaven her smiling angel hears, 

Perchance she will remember even there. 
How her hand closed in mine in those sweet years ; 

Perchance in pity she will breathe a prayer. 
For ah ! she died, and left me here in tears ! 



OUT OF THE DARK, 1 19 




OUT OF THE DARK. 

AY, like a flower, blossoms from the night, 
And all things beautiful arise from things 
That bear a lesser grace. The lily springs 
Pure as an angel's soul, and just as white. 
From out the dark clod where no ray of light 
E'er creeps. The butterfly, on airy wings. 
Rises from the cold chrysahs that clings 
To some dead, mouldering leaflet, hid from sight. 
If thus in Nature all things good and fair, 
And all things that the grace of beauty wear, 
Begotten are of things that show no charm, 

Then will I seek to find in every care 
And every sorrow, and in all the harm 

That comes to me, a pleasure sweet and rare. 



120 THE MEMORY OF PLEASURE. 




THE MEMORY OF PLEASURE. 

HE memory of a pleasure passed away 

Makes music in the soul, — as, from a strain 
Of cherished song, the theme may long remain 
To charm the mild, sweet ear of thought, and play 
In reverie the oft-returning lay. 

A pleasure perished lives in thought again, 
As, far reflected to the starry train, 
The glory lives of a departed day. 

O golden hours, lost in the long ago. 
Your beauty shall not sink to darkness cold ; 

Up from your graves your springing memories grow, 
Like roses blossoming above the mould. 
In all that 's fair a deathless being dwells. 
And from the Past a joy forever swells. 



A PORTRAIT. 121 




A PORTRAIT. 

WEET eyes that light a mild and modest face, 
Reflections of a spirit pure and bright, -— 
With just a tinge of sadness in their light, 
That yet is not a sadness, but a grace 
Where tender thoughts do find a dwelling-place ; 

Sweet-moulded lips, from whence the words take flight 
Gently as birds that, with a pure delight, 
Sing where the twihght shadows interlace ; 

A brow that is a temple all divine. 
Where holy thoughts to deep communion steal, 
Like noiseless spirits, that to some still shrine 
Go at the hush of eve in prayer to kneel ; 
But gentle one, that lovely face of thine 
Its own pure beauty may alone reveal. 



122 BY THE FIRESIDE, 




BY THE FIRESIDE. 

HEN skies are cold with wintry stars, and hills 
Are white with yester-even's snow, and lie 
In ghostly state bene'ath the ghostly sky ; 
When many a gusty blast the darkness fills 
With ever lonely, homeless sound, and chills 

The window panes with firost ; when crackling fly 
The sparks about the hearth, and glow and die, 
While in the pause his note the cricket trills ; 

Oh, then how dear is home ! and what a sense 
Of ruddy warmth and peace beguiles the mind ! 
And what a charm in listening while the wind 

Blows fierce outside, through Winter's starry tents, 
And dies away around the window-pane, 
And ever rises loud, and dies again ! 



LIFE AND DEATH. 1 23 



LIFE AND DEATH. 






F yonder sun had an eternal voice, 

And from each star celestial numbers rung ; 
If each sweet flower had a gentle tongue, 
Mid sun and dew to breathe its music choice ; 
If from the very ground melodious noise 
Rose solemnly the hills and vales among, 
And each fair tree with singing leaflets hung, — 
Then Day and Night in concord would rejoice. 

So if the wondrous things of Hfe and death, 
With voices grand might from their dumbness break. 

And, blending in one full triumphant breath, 
Their own immortal revelation make ; 

Then would we know how Death, whose name we 

wrong. 
Must join with Life to make one perfect song. 



124 ALONE. 




ALONE. 

STOOD, a stranger, on a foreign shore ; 
It was a Sabbath evening, and the rim 
Of the low moon rose o'er the ocean's brim. 
One small, white cot the lonely beaches bore ; 
And, softly stealing from the open door. 

Rose on my ear the fisher's evening hymn, — 
A holy psalm that crossed the beaches dim, 
And died the solitary waters o'er. 

A solemn sound, that seemed to harmonize — 
The sad, eternal murmur of the sea — 

Rose from the waves, and, on the darkening skies, 
The quiet stars dawned in tranquilHty. 

Ah, then it was with memories fond, and sighs. 
My native land, I yearned and wept for thee. 



DREAMLAND. 125 



DREAMLAND. 

p^^g'HEN gentle Sleep, upon her balmy wings, 

'^jWh\ ^^^^fts down her peace to calm the weary brain : 
When sweet forgetfulness of woe or pain 
A soothing influence o'er the spirit brings j 
When, marshalled from their varied wanderings, 

The thoughts are staved in all their busV chain, 

Then siren Fancy leads her airy train 
Through that fair realm where Dreamland's fountain 
springs. 

She breathes enchantment, and the air is stirred 
With soulful sounds, — the purl of distant rills, 

The sigh of winds, the note of some far bird, 
Or tinkling shepherd-bell among the hills. 

Ah ! while we listen to her tranquil themes 

There dwells a sweet realitv in dreams 1 



126 IN WAVERLEY. 




IN WAVERLEY. 

T)^rt^[ERE do the wild flowers, jewels of the Spring, 
Lie on the bosom of the emerald hills ; 
Here do the low, far voices of the rills 
Haunt day and night with liquid murmuring ; 
Here to our song-pleased ears, at sunset, sing 
The pleasure-breathing birds, till ^Memory fills 
Her heart with dreams to last \vhen Autumn chills 
The earth, and Winter's windy trumpets ring ; 

Here stand the ancient oaks renowned and hoar, 
The vernal monuments of time untold, 

For countless ^^ind5 have listened to their roar, 
And Springs unnumbered clad their branches old, 
And here, hke some grand organ of the wood, 
The cascade thunders in its sohtude. 



MY MOTHER'S PORTRAIT. 12/ 




MY MOTHER'S PORTRAIT. 

H, would this unskilled hand of mine might trace, 
And carve in verse the picture that I hold, 
That from a poem's clear and quiet mould 
The world might know, in many a distant place. 
And smile to know, a thing so full of grace. 

Time crowns with silver Summer's changing gold ; 
But here his light and gentle touch has told 
No frosty tale of years on Summer's face. 

These eyes are ever clear as pleasant skies, 
That bear the soft, still joy of evening's hue ; 

Across their light no clouds are seen to rise, 
Though there Affection's thoughts suffuse like dew. 

Ah me ! that every soul on earth that sighs 
The sunlight of so sweet a presence knew. 



128 SUMMER IN WINTER. 



SmDJER IN WINTER. 



!^^^|7 HOUGH, wrapped in quiet dreams, the gentle 
flowers 






Beneath the frosty turf are slumbering ; 

Though stormy Winter, stern and cruel king, 
Strips bare the thorny shrubs and lonely bowers, 
Of all their bloom ; though in the evening hours 

No happy bird flits by on silent wing, 

And sings till wood and dale seem hstening ; 
Though earth is chilled by Death's unfeeling powers, 

Yet in my heart so dear a picture glows, 
Of leafy dells and rills and waving fields, 
That sunlight o'er the dreary landscape steals, 

And flowers seem to blossom from the snows. 
'T is thus in life that memory reveals, 

INIid all our storms, some scene of sweet repose ! 



THE SNOWSTORM, 129 




THE SNOWSTORM. 

To G. A. 

HE morning skies are dull and streaked with gray ; 
And silently upon the frosty air 
The scattered snowflakes flutter here and there, 
And skip and dance like fairies in their play, 
Poising awhile, then frolicking away. 

Noon comes, and lo ! the hills, that were so bare. 
Are robed in dazzling garments, pure and fair ; 
The trees seem blossoming in some strange w^ay ; 

And when once more the air towards evening clears, 
And when the fleecy shower of white subsides, 

A wondrous transformation then appears ! 
The barren ground from sight so closely hides 
Beneath that stainless spread, it almost seems 
As though we gaze upon the land of dreams ! 



130 SUNSET. 




SUNSET. 

VE watches at the portals of the west, 

Looking upon the world with longing eyes, 
Invisible until the peaceful skies 
Shall fade, and weary Day shall sink to rest. 
Earth bears a solemn hush upon her breast, 
And all is still. A few fair clouds arise, 
Like pilgrims from the south, whose journey lies. 
Gilded with light, far o'er the mountain's crest. 

Eve softly enters. xA.s the glorious sun 
Rides o'er the hills, a moment doth he gaze 

With rapture on her brow ; her smile is won 
Ere he departs ; and, blushing 'neath his rays, 
She hides her face upon the ethereal blue. 
Till heaven is mantled with the beauteous hue. 



A HOPE, 131 



A HOPE, 









BLEW a tiny bubble on the air ; 
The sunbeams painted rainbows pure and bright 
Upon it, and it shone with mystic Hght. 
I stretched my hand to take the treasure fair ; 
It vanished at my touch, and naught was there 
Except the gathered moisture. From the night 
I sent a Hope ; and soft winds on tlieir flight 
Into the future bore it Hke a prayer. 
Day broke. A thousand golden sunbeams clear 
Enveloped it with smiles ; but when I thought 
To grasp my Hope, I deemed not what I sought 
Was far too sweet a pleasure, far too dear, 

E'er to be mine. No joy to me it brought : 
Its melting beauty gathered in a tear ! 



132 BY THE SEA. 



BY THE SEA. 



^^^HE soft waves murmur on the foamy sand, 
^-^fgt,'! ^^ ith voices tuned to minor cadence low, 
As the great Ocean, pulsing to and fro, 
Breathes out his measured music o'er the land. 
Here clamber not the breakers loud and grand, 
Falling amid their clouds of frothy snow ; 
A milder power turns the ebb and flow 
Along the marges of this solemn strand. 

Oft have I heard such ceaseless sounds arise 
From out some mighty city's busy walls, 

Where the vast sea of proud ambitions lies, 
And the great tide of labor swells and falls ; 
And I have listened with half- misty eyes, 
As now I hsten where the sad sea calls. 



TO A CAPTIVE BIRD, 1 33 




TO A CAPTIVE BIRD. 

O more, dear Bird, upon the dewy leas 

Thy matin song shall charm the fragrant air 1 
No more thy liquid notes of music rare 
Shall echo softly through the rusthng trees ! 
No more the passing of the midnight breeze 

Shall rock thee with a mild, unconscious care. 

As, slumbering with folded pinions fair. 
Thou dreamest of the woodland melodies ! 

O little captive Bird, — I could not sing 
If I were parted from my native home ; 

Then how canst thou make such sweet twittering? 
Knowest thou not thy little mate doth roam 

The hill and moor, like some lone sorrowing thing, 
Mourning that when she calls thou dost not come ? 



134 THE SKIES, 




THE SKIES. 

CALM, fair Skies, a tender mystery 
Lies in your soundless depths of silent blue ! 
From your still bosom falls the noiseless dew 
So softly down upon the flowery lea, 
No mortal vision may its passage see. 

Each glowing morn ye wear a pleasure new ; 
For the long years fade not that azure hue 
Whose beauty is a sweet eternity. 

Dear God, I know thy ways are mild and fair, 
So gentle a heaven doth thy works enshrine, 

And e'en did not my lowly spirit bear 
The knowledge of thy lofty name divine. 

My soul would seek its unknown Maker where 
Day smiles, and evening stars unnumbered shine. 



A RAINY NIGHT IN THE CITY, 1 35 




n 



A RAINY NIGHT IN THE CITY. 

ARK ! how the wind blows 'gainst the window- 
pane, 
Sighing and whispering with a dismal moan ! 

And how, with ever-mournful, dreary tone, 

omes constantly the pattering of the rain, — 
Lulling awhile, then suddenly again 

Beating with restless "sob ! How strange and lone 

It sounds ! Anon a neighboring bUnd is blown 
With startling crash ; the hinges creak and strain ; 

And out upon the distant, stone-paved street 
A heavy cart rolls by, its noise nigh drowned 

By splashing waterspouts. The horse's feet 
Clash with a dampness in the very sound ; 

And when at last die out those rumbling wheels,. 

Ah, what a loneliness upon us steals 1 



136 WINTER IN NEW HAMPSHIRE, 




A WINTER NIGHT IN NEW HAMPSHIRE. 

LUE starry skies ; hills dreaming in their snows, 
Their silent whiteness high against the west ; 
The crescent moon along their silver crest 
A golden flood of blending beauty throws. 
Beneath, the leafless forests grim repose, 

Where cold and dreary shadows brooding rest, 
Like melancholy spirits that infest 
The lonely scenes of their mysterious woes. 

Nearer, a rough, untravelled road, where stands 
A log-built cabin, from whose heavy panes 

A flickering light streams o'er the neighboring lands. 
Close by, a tree where not a leaf remains. 

Stretching aloft his naked, frosty hands ; 
And over all a solemn silence reigns. 



SOUL HARMONY. 137 




SOUL HARMONY. 

• 

AIR smiles the Moon on heaven's ethereal plain, 
A quiet glory charms her silver sheen, 
As silently, and with a brow serene, 
She leads across the night her shining train. 
Listen, my raptured soul ! What holy strain 
Of distant music robes that lovely scene, — 
Swells solemnly the wooded hills between, 
And echoes from the stars in soft refrain ? 

O voiceless night ! O slumbering vales and hills ! 
,Your music, like the melody that springs 

From dreams, breathes but a fancied note, that fills 
The silent air with sweet imaginings : 

No sound, no voice the outward hearing thrills ; 
'T is in the soul the harmonious language rings. 



138 TO SLEEP, 




TO SLEEP. 

||0?vIE, silent-footed Sleep, with soothing draught, 
The dark ambrosial wine of nightly shade, 
Till, pillowed soft in downy dreams, is laid 
To deep, unconscious peace the brow of Thought. 
Mother of Rest, — so near while yet unsought, 
Vvlth noiseless wings and drowsy whisper made 
To calm the anxious heart that beats afraid, — 
O come, and bring that balm by worlds unbought ! 

Far shine the smiling stars in glittering throng ; 
And Silence listens in the heavens deep. 

As though to catch the murmur, low and long, 
Of distant seas that endless converse keep. 

A hush like that at close of some faint song 
Enfolds the earth. Then come, O come, sweet Sleep ! 



SCULPTURE. 139 




SCULPTURE. 

To F. E. E. 

HE history of the world is carved in stone ; 

E'en Nature speaks from monuments^ that bear 
The chiselled record of Time's busy care, 
And note the events that infinite years make known. 
'T is not the sounding tongue that speaks alone ; 
The silent hills a wondrous theme declare, 
And, though an everlasting hush they wear, 
Proclaim the lofty tale of ages flown. 

O sculptor ! since the noble gift is thine, 
To grave the lines of Beauty's living grace, — 

Is not thy call akin to work divine ? — 
Since death thy changeless task may not efface, 
Since God, through nature, thus imprints for aye. 
Immortal lines upon earth's mortal clay? 



140 LIGHT AND SHADOW. 




LIGHT AND SHADOW. 

UR bodies are the shadows of our souls, 
And shadow only melts because of light ; 
As melts at morn the memory of the night, 
When God the golden hour of day unrolls, 
And Labor's tide sweeps high on Time's stern shoals ; 
Yet do our tongues grow dumb, our faces white. 
That from the watch-tower hid on Memory's height, 
Death's curfew for the dying ever tolls. 
If somewhere hidden in the voiceless dark. 

Where Love's lost mysteries in silence mould. 
There be a bright existence, yet to mark 
The zenith of a blessedness untold, — 
It is a happy moment when the spark 
Of this first life expires in ashes cold. 



TO SILENCE, 141 




TO SILENCE. 

^^ILD soother of the wounded heart, and sire 
Of sweet forgetfulness and pleasant sleep ! 
Dear charm that fillest night from deep to deep, 
Till hushed to rest is Nature's tuneful choir. 
And Thought bows dreaming o'er her song-worn Ivre, — 
How Memory loves thee, when from steep to steep 
The rising stars their noiseless vigil keep, — 
Those golden beauties, clear as flakes of fire ! 

When the bright pageants of the passing day 
Are lost in secret Night's o'ershadowed vales, 

And from their harbor, sleep, dreams drift away, 
Like pleasure-barks that float with idle sails ; 
Then Fancy calls with silver tongue to thee, 
And fills with music all thy slumber-sea. 



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